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“Please. I know you have some ideas.”
“It might be Andy McCrae,” he admitted.
“If it is, then my worries are over. He’s harmless.”
He wasn’t about to remind her that the stalker had hacked into both his brothers’ phones. Definitely not harmless. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“A year ago, at least. But who else could it be? You have other suspects, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’m worried that Mitrofanov or Lunceford or both might be pulling the strings on this, baby. Until I know for certain, you will not be left alone.”
She smiled. “You three are more alike than you think.”
He kissed her. “When it comes to your safety, we are in total agreement. Relax. I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you.” He exited, leaving the door to the bathroom open.
He walked into the living room with his cell and ROC in one hand and his gun in the other. He brought the phone up to his ear. Looking around her place, he spotted so many items and photos that reminded him of how their life had once been. It’s going to be again.
Two rings later, Lucas answered. “Hey, Jason. How’s our girl?”
“She just got flowers delivered from the stalker.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes. I’ll call Mitchell on the way. The wedding reception just ended. He’s packing up the equipment.”
Jason hung up the phone.
After putting his wet clothes in her dryer, he walked into Phoebe’s kitchen. Next to a couple of bottles of merlot, which he knew to be her preference, he found an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels, his favorite drink. Phoebe didn’t drink hard liquor. Ever. Beer or wine were as strong as she drank. Why did she keep a bottle of Jack on hand? In his heart, he knew why. For me. She keeps it for me.
He got out a couple of glasses and poured each of them a drink. He’d finally seen the old smile on her face tonight, and that had sent his heart soaring. No fucking psycho was going to harm a single hair on her head. He’d give his life, if necessary, to make sure she remained safe.
What if the stalker turns out to be Kip Lunceford? He drank the entire contents in his glass, sending the biting whiskey down his throat.
He fired up his ROC that Brown had given him and the rest of her new team.
Lunceford had escaped. Was he Phoebe’s stalker? Even if he were, Kip would be a fool to come to Destiny for Phoebe. And a question kept swimming around in his head. Why her?
She and Lunceford had little connection. Sure, the maniac loved pulling strings, especially when it came to the Knights. Megan, their wife, was Kip’s ex. Lunceford even liked screwing with the whole town. But it just didn’t make sense that he would zero in on Phoebe.
Looking at the files Brown had already shown him, he poured another shot. “What am I missing? What don’t I know about this?” Rage still simmered close to the surface inside him. He looked at the flowers. They’d come from a florist, so there likely wouldn’t be prints of any use on the vase. The florist was located in Clover, about ten miles from Destiny. Perhaps there were prints on the note, though. Also, there might be a possibility the florist saw the son of bitch’s face. He’d go with Nicole to Clover to check that out first thing in the morning.
He slammed the roses into the trash. There had been fear in Phoebe’s eyes when she’d read the card. He cursed under his breath.
With the glass of merlot and a plate of fruit, cheese, and crackers, he walked back into where he’d left her.
From the tub, she looked up at him. “What can we do about this stalker issue?”
He smiled. “You haven’t changed a bit, baby.”
“What do you mean?”
“Always straight to the point. This is what you’re going to do. You will enjoy your bath.” He grabbed a towel and put it around his waist. “And I am going to take care of everything. Understand?”
She nodded. “I’m glad you’re here, Jason.”
He’d always been awed by her courage, but never more than now. The last three years had been tough on him but even more so on her. She’d seen her brother fall hard and land in prison. She’d walked away from love, and he and his brothers had let her go. No matter what kind of knocks life dished out to her, she kept getting up, kept fighting.
Whoever the creep turned out to be, Jason would make sure the psycho never bothered her again. Breaking any law was something he’d never thought possible for him. But now, he knew whatever it took to make sure Phoebe was safe he would do, including killing the motherfucker, with or without legal cause.
His cell rang and Phoebe’s eyes widened. He looked at the screen. “It’s not him, baby. Relax.” The caller was Agent Brown.
